


just like her mother

by clarkedarling



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, HEA, Next Generation, Starts sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkedarling/pseuds/clarkedarling
Summary: a terrible tragedy knocks everything sideways in sanditon, forcing sidney to come home.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer, Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Eliza Campion/Sidney Parker
Comments: 113
Kudos: 117





	1. the saddest of news

Sidney always looked forward to the morning post. His newspaper would arrive, freshly starched by the butler, along with letters from old acquaintances or new friends. His favourite correspondences usually came from his nieces and nephews, who now had a great deal more to say than how tall their sandcastle was. Alicia, for example, was attending the most prestigious finishing school in the country, and was progressing nicely. She had sent her 'Uncle Sid' several embroidered handkerchiefs, of many vibrant colours, that he cherished dearly. The other three Parker children remained at home, although looked to be branching out rather soon, especially as James, the youngest, had set his sights on a career in the navy. Sidney liked to think he had a part in nurturing his nephew's passion for the ocean.

Occasionally, he would receive a letter from Georgiana, who had surprised everyone by marrying a most suitable Lord, settling down in York. Over the years he had seen less and less of his former ward, something which pained him greatly. Whilst he had considered her a burden at the best of times, he had grown to care for her, even giving her away at her wedding. However, Georgiana and his wife, Eliza, had never been very good at suppressing their contempt for one another, which he suspected had been the cause of the former’s estrangement.

Tom and Mary could always be relied upon to keep him informed about all the goings-on in Sanditon, which was now a rather fashionable hotbed of society, rivalling the likes of Brighton; Lady Worcester’s frequent visits would certainly have helped to increase the town’s popularity. In the past, Mary would write fervently about the colour their neighbour had painted the door, or how some pest had been digging up holes on the beach and leaving them so that people would tumble into the craters. Recently, the most fascinating piece of gossip had been Charlotte’s upcoming pregnancy.

Reading Charlotte’s name in Mary’s letters never ceased to cause his heart to leap up into his throat. It was with morbid curiosity that he kept himself informed on all that she was up to, the way one can’t help but watch a building succumb to a ravishing fire, for he had been unable to muster the courage to ever write to her himself. Their last true conversation - for he had seen her a dozen times since though had not had the courage to go beyond expected pleasantries and small talk - had been at Georgiana’s wedding, which had taken place over six years ago. The encounter had been brief, if a little chilly. Charlotte had, of course, been amicable - he wouldn't have expected anything else from the most kind-hearted woman in Britain - though he could sense that she had closed the softer, more intimate part of herself off to him. A side he had been privileged to see, and now knew he would never see again. He had, rather naively, hoped that due to Eliza’s absence they would be able to properly talk, as empathetically as they had been able to that summer they first met. Alas, Charlotte had been accompanied by her then-fiancé, James Stringer. Understandably, he had been rather protective of his soon-to-be wife, especially wary of the man responsible for shattering her heart.

That was an outright lie. He had spoken with her, alone, one time since, though had done such a splendid job of burying it so deep underneath his consciousness that it hadn't seen the light of day in years.

In those long years since they had last seen one another, rather a lot had developed. Charlotte was married, happily, and teaching to her heart's content in Sanditon's old schoolhouse - which her and her husband were responsible for renovating into the most gorgeous building - or so was public opinion. Parents around the county sent their children to Sanditon for schooling, which was an enormous testimony to Charlotte’s talents. Equally as impressive, she remained a close acquaintance of Lady Worcester, the pair a staple at balls all across the country. Lords and Dames, Dukes and Princesses ensured Charlotte’s name was never missing from their glittering guest lists. In-between shaping young minds, designing new town houses and attending the chicest of parties, Charlotte had given birth to three healthy, rambunctious children who gleefully made up three sevenths of the undefeated under fives Sanditon cricket team. Proud father James was now Sanditon’s Head Architect, overseeing all developments and construction, whilst Tom had retired, rather reluctantly. He made it known to everybody he came across that he was the luckiest man in the world, and he was hard pressed to find somebody to disagree. They merely had to gaze upon his dazzling wife, his darling children and his daring work. If there ever was a reason to relocate to Sanditon, it was to sample the delightful mark the Stringer family had made on the town.

It was not lost on Sidney that he had missed out on such a quaint, wonderful life with the woman he loved more than anything. Every letter, every headline, every piece of news he would read in regards to his former flame would chip away at his already severely depleting happiness. 

Sidney had two children of his own, which were some days his only saving grace, along with his nieces and nephews. Robert, who at five was horrifyingly already shaping up to a mummy’s boy. He would hardly utter two words to his father, but Sidney would catch Rob - who actively shunned the nickname - and Eliza whispering away in secluded corners. More often than not Sidney believed them to be spying on him, muttering about his movements so that they would always have the upper hand on him. Sidney had tried, desperately, to connect with his oldest son, but found that his wife, the ever-spiteful, ever-bitter, Eliza Parker, had practically turned her firstborn against him.

That made Sidney all the more determined to bond with his second son, two year old Harry, before Eliza could get her claws in. It seemed to have worked, as Harry appeared more content in his father’s company than his mother’s. Sidney, silently, was rather glad about this outcome. Robert was sly, whiny and calculating. He’d cry and cry, snot spewing from his nose in grisly little bubbles, until his mother would shower him in attention and treats, the latter of which he did not deserve. Harry, however, was _charming_. His sense of humour was already making itself evident, and his kindness a welcome addition. He’d save scraps from dinner for the dogs, pick flowers for his distracted mother, and warm his father’s slippers. Sidney adored his son more than he thought possible of any spawn of his and Eliza’s.

He’d recently returned from a business trip in Southampton, and had found himself more eager to come home than he had been in the past. He instructed the coach rider to go faster, take a shorter route, all so he could show Harry the new toy soldier he had bought for him - of course Robert had a present too, though less thought had admittedly gone into his. Upon arriving he was greeted only by Harry, jumping up and down on the doorstep. Eliza was bathing, Robert taking a nap. When the pair resurfaced, they greeted Sidney with much indifference, as though he were merely a new footman. He had been gone six days, though might as well have been away two minutes for all the love they showed him.

Over breakfast that morning, in which Harry sat dutifully beside him, tucking into some marmalade on toast, Sidney caught up on all the post that had accumulated during his absence. First was a terrifically terrible scribbling from James, now eight years old. It was of his new boat, a model of course, that he proudly wanted to show his uncle. The next few letters weren’t all that thrilling; two from the bank informing him interest rates had dropped, one from his business partner triumphantly telling him that interest rates had dropped, and a handful of monthly updates from his several business ventures. All terribly droll, he was perked up by the final letter, in Mary’s handwriting.

He was in the process of opening it when Eliza and Robert graced them with their appearance. Soundlessly, without so much as a ‘good morning’, they sat themselves down and began to pick at the food. Their cook had prepared some decadent pastries which Eliza regarded with an upturned nose, as though they were mouldy hunks of indelible leftovers.

“Any correspondences for me?” she asked, making a point not to look in her husband’s direction.

“Not today,” Sidney grumbled, slicing Mary’s letter open. He snuck a peek at Eliza, watching as she huffed with disappointment. “Why, are you expecting something? Oh dear, not as popular as you presume yourself to be.”

Shooting him a venomous glance, she continued to butter a bread roll for Robert. “I suppose they’re all party invitations then?” she spat, gesturing rather threateningly with her butter knife to the pile of opened bank statements and business reports.

Sidney wouldn’t deign her with a response, instead taking a deep breath and beginning to read Mary’s letter, which was usually a welcome distraction from day-to-day life.

Yet, he quickly realised he had been sorely mistaken in thinking anything in his sister-in-law’s letter would be good news.

_Dearest Sidney,_

_It is with a heavy pen and broken heart that I write to you today._

_Young Stringer sent word to us this morning that Charlotte gave birth to a baby girl in the early hours, healthy and beautiful. We were overjoyed, and had planned to visit mother and baby with some little trinkets. That is no longer the case as we have since received the most distressing news. I debated informing you, with Tom strongly believing it should remain private, however I know of your feelings for our Charlotte, have always known, how pure and true they run._

_Armed with this knowledge, I truly think it is only fair you know quite how grave the situation is here in Sanditon. Charlotte is suffering from a condition Dr Fuchs believes to be pre-eclampsia. I won’t attempt to explain something I don’t even understand, all that it means is that she is ill, terribly so. It is my sincerest suggestion that you ride here as soon as you are able._

_We are all preparing for the absolute worst. You would be wise, my poor brother, to do the same._

_All my love,  
Mary_

Sidney was at a complete loss for words. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him as the letter fell from his clasp, his hands suddenly trembling uncontrollably. Pushing himself away from the table, cutlery and china clattering, he felt as though the ground had been swept from beneath him.

“Daddy?” Harry piped up, his soft little voice breaking through Sidney’s sadness like Eliza’s butter knife. “Is something wrong?”


	2. the slowest of mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidney races to be by charlotte's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is going to be a bumpy ride, so strap yourselves in. i really appreciate any and all comments you lovely readers leave, so please keep them coming, i love reading people's opinions and guesses.
> 
> enjoy!

Sidney's morning was going by in excruciating slow motion. He'd arranged for his own carriage to take him to Sanditon, deciding to put himself at the reins, forgoing footmen. He hadn't packed any luggage either, leaving the house a mere handful of minutes after reading Mary's dreadful letter, kissing goodbye to his children. Eliza had made a fuss, insisting she had a greater need for the carriage than he did, to which he had brandished the letter under her nose and left without another word. He didn't care for what she had to say on the matter; knowing his wife it wouldn't be pleasant anyway, and his patience was record-breakingly low.

The journey would usually have taken a good four and a half hours, though Sidney pushed it out to three, taking a shortcut he vaguely remembered. A few times he was certain he had taken a wrong turn, and cursed until he was blue in the face, when he'd spot a familiar landmark and be reassured he was on the right track.

His mind was like a hive of angry bees, horrible, gut-wrenching thoughts, the worst possible outcomes, buzzing around until all he could think about was Charlotte and how she would look in her death bed. He imagined pools of blood, and her face contorted in agony. The very picture caused a bout of nausea, as he leaned over the carriage and spewed up his breakfast.

Gripping the reins tighter, willing the horses to go faster, he tried with all his might to cast his bad thoughts aside, to no avail.

His fear was the only thing fuelling him on. His fear that he would be too late, the absurd idea that they would have already buried her by the time he had arrived. His fear that the last time he would have seen her he was inebriated, barely able to walk in a straight line. His fear that the last thing he would have ever said to her was something vile, and cruel.

The last time he had been alone with Charlotte was just over four years prior. She had been heavily pregnant at the time, with her first child. She did not seem to have aged since he'd first set eyes on her, when she had been a young girl of barely twenty. She still wore her hair down, a decision he always found rather endearing, though it was much longer, and a touch lighter due to many hours spent sea-bathing. They had all gathered for baby James's fourth birthday, and as he was now talking, walking and everything in-between, there was a grand affair planned for the celebration.

What Sidney had found the most difficult about the day was observing Charlotte in an entirely new habitat; same old Sanditon, bright and shiny new Charlotte. She was married, for one, and ever-so-happily too. The couple could not keep their hands off one another all day, their bliss sweet for everybody else, sickening for Sidney. The way she interacted with his family, with Tom and Mary, with the kids, with Georgiana and Arthur and Diana, made him feel like an outsider. He was foolish to blame her - it was of his own doing, of course - but he couldn't help but think that he'd not only lost Charlotte that day on the hilltop, but his own family too.

At the time, one year old Robert, who had always favoured his mother, was causing Sidney to feel inadequate as a father, and Eliza making it pain-stakingly clear that she had no desire to be in the company of the Parkers. Seeing Charlotte so at ease with everybody, practically the light of the party, it reminded Sidney of all that he could have had, and all that he would never have.

So, in a choice that was now horrendously shameful to look back on, he became rip-roaringly drunk.

As awful as that sounds, he wished that had been the extent of his mistakes that day, and yet he was not so fortunate. Before people started to stare, and before Mary politely showed him the door, he managed to corner Charlotte as she stepped outside for some fresh air.

She was trying her best to be pleasant, despite obviously being in so much discomfort with her eight month pregnancy. Sidney, utterly unprovoked, began to say some rather nasty things in return. For instance, he accused of her 'settling' for James Stringer, that she could have done better, and that staying put in Sanditon was the dreariest thing she had ever done - all things he had no right in saying.

When she had started to cry, he should have pulled back, should have left. Instead, he dug the knife in further by telling her; _"When we met you were just a farmer's daughter who liked books, and now you're just some builder's wife. Nothing about you was special, and nothing ever will be. I was right in looking elsewhere for somebody to warm my bed. You're a disappointment."_

He had said those things to hurt her, to make her feel as wounded as he felt. He neither believed or meant his words. The second he'd spat them out, in a drunken, slurry ramble, he'd wanted to take them back. To tell her the truth; that he loved her and wanted her back. However, it was too late. James had come out to find his wife, and instead found her in tears.

Charlotte had never, ever addressed what he had said, despite the pair seeing each other, amongst crowds and for the briefest seconds at events and balls. If he'd had the courage, he would have apologised, but had never worked up the nerve.

Now, riding back to her as she was dying, all he wanted was the chance to say sorry. For all the pain he had ever caused her, for all the harsh words and bad decisions. For everything.

It was just before lunch when he arrived in Sanditon. The market was in full-swing, the streets hectic, far more people than he'd ever seen in the town. Racing to the old Stringer residence, Sidney knocked and he knocked until his knuckles were split. Nobody answered. Was he being shut out? This, in his hindsight, was to be expected, though he hadn't even thought that they wouldn't permit him in on his journey down. Now, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he was unsure what else to do but shout.

He shouted, shouted Charlotte's name, shouted James's, until he was blue in the face. It was only when a passerby stopped him, informing him that the Stringer family were now living in a cottage on the seafront, and had been for a few years now.

" - It was when the last lot was born, I think, that they moved out. Needed a bigger house didn't they?" the old fisherman was rambling.

Restless and irritable, Sidney interrupted the man, gripping his arm. "Where are they now? Where _exactly_ , man?"

The fisherman furrowed his brow, and gawped. "No need to be rough, sir," he grumbled, shrugging himself free. "They live next to the schoolhouse, the house with the blue door. Miss Charlotte painted it herself - "

Sidney did not wait to hear the rest of the old man's nonsense, for he had his information. He raced back to his carriage and set off immediately, his new route no more than ten minutes out of town - though ten minutes too long.

He had attended the school as a young boy, so knew where to go without too much difficulty. The track was neater too, less potholes and more pruned hedges.

He jumped off the carriage the second the horses stopped, and he must have been making some noise as the door swung hastily open. It was fifteen year old Alicia, her face ashen. "Uncle Sidney - " she muttered, her voice cracking.

Sidney could have sworn his knees were going to buckle. His stomach dropping, he whipped off his hat. "Oh God, I'm too late aren't I?"

Before she could answer, he heard a voice inside. Weak and feeble, barely above a whisper, but distinct enough that he knew it was without a shadow of a doubt. "Is that Sidney Parker I hear? Somebody tell him to stop brooding and come inside, he's letting a draft in."


	3. the worst kind of gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidney makes it to the cottage, but is he in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being so lovely! i'm really enjoying getting back to writing again, and intend to not make you wonderful readers wait so long! some of you have guessed the outcome, others have given me food for thought. this is going to be a sad one i'm afraid.
> 
> enjoy!

Stepping inside the Stringer's modest cottage felt like stepping into a Renaissance painting. There was such an array of characters, all unlikely friends. Their sombre expressions would have made him suspect the unthinkable had occurred, if he had not of heard Charlotte's voice call out to him moments prior. Of course Tom and Mary were there, untouched tea in front of them, as Tom paced back and forth, Mary attempting to soothe twelve year old Jenny. Beside them sat Esther, wracked with nerves, evident from the tight grip she had on her husband's hand. Babington acknowledged Sidney with a slight nod of his head, though did not move to greet him, instead remaining dutifully by Esther's side.

A rare sight, something that would have been humorous in other circumstances, was Lady Worcester sat in-between the ever-grubby Frank Robinson and the ever-beetroot-faced Arthur Parker, his faithful sister Diana to his right. Lady Susan's attire, a marvellous teal gown, looked rather out of place amongst the humble interior of a builder's cottage.

It brought Sidney little comfort to see everybody who loved Charlotte gathered together, as it made Mary's words echo in his mind; "We are all preparing for the absolute worst."

Setting his hat down, Alicia politely taking his coat from him too, he allowed his eyes to wander around the room. Hearing a small commotion on the floor, he looked down and spotted his nephews, ten year old Henry and eight year old James, playing with a set of wooden blocks and trains, with three gorgeous little boys. All three had unruly heads of curls, the colour of rich cocoa, and a smattering of freckles.

It was as though all the wind was knocked from him when he realised they were Charlotte's children, three boys he had never met before.

One of the younger ones, no older than two, looked up at him with such curiosity, his mouth agape. "Who are you?"

His brother joined his bewilderment, as he gazed up too. It took Sidney a moment until he realised that the pair were twins, shockingly identical. The only discernible difference was that one had a missing front tooth.

"Ross, I think he's an uncle," the oldest piped up. He was around four years old, and had his mother's dimpled chin. He turned to Sidney for acknowledgement. "You are one of mummy's brothers, right?"

Henry laughed, a sound that reverberated around the joyless cottage with such hollowness, that it's inhabitants couldn't help but chuckle too, the brief respite from their grief more than welcome. "No Louis, that's my uncle," he told the other boys. "Uncle Sidney."

"Oh," Louis shrugged. "Mummy talks about you sometimes."

Sidney felt a lump rise in his throat, stumped for words.

All of a sudden, Georgiana appeared in the doorway. Her hair was falling out of it's pins, and her dress was rumpled and stained - she'd tried to hide the blood with an apron. Her eyes fell upon Sidney, and they softened immediately. "You made it."

"Can I go and see mummy now?" one of the twins asked, jumping to his feet. They obviously didn't know the severity of the situation, their oblivion undercut by an eagerness to meet their new baby sister.

Georgiana shook her head, gently. "Not yet, Jacob. Soon though, I promise."

"Here, come and sit with me," Lady Susan offered, patting her lap. "I want to hear all about that fish you caught last week. How big was it again?"

"At least the size of a whale!"

"A whale, oh my!" Babington joined in, his hand still clasped with Esther's, who was trying to stifle a stream of tears.

"Of course it wasn't a whale, silly," Louis interjected, shaking his head. "It was more of a porpoise."

As the children were distracted once again, Georgiana ushered Sidney forward. Before they entered the bedroom, she took his arm and gripped tightly, in part to stop him, but he also suspected she needed steadying. She looked dreadful, her eyes puffy and red.

"It isn't good, Sidney," she warned him, whispering. "We don't know how long she has left, so don't go making her cry - "

Sidney held her hands in his, and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

Georgiana knocked on the door, taking a deep breath, then pushed it ajar.

Somehow, even with her hair plastered to her skin with sweat, drained of all colour, her lips chapped and cracked, Charlotte was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She was lying in the bed, propped up by cushions and swathed in blankets. James was, of course, sat at her side, a book perched on his lap. He had been reading to her when they entered.

It broke Sidney's heart to see Charlotte in such an awful state, but what hurt more was to have her smile up at him.

"Am I glad to see you," she beamed.

James, who was less pleased at the presence of him, tried to settle her as she wriggled to sit up, groaning slightly as she did. "Careful, my love," he muttered, adjusting the pillows so that she would be comfy. To hear James refer to Charlotte with an affectionate term such as 'my love' was a difficult pill to swallow.

"Have you come to see the baby?" she asked, eerily chirpy. Her eyes were bright, the rest of her lacklustre and foggy. "She's right here." She lifted the corner of a blanket up to reveal a darling baby girl, slumbering soundly, all rosy cheeks and button noses. Sidney gazed down at the child with wonder; of course Charlotte would have such perfect children. "She is a sweet little thing, isn't she?"

"She's a delight," he agreed, in a voice that came out smaller than he had intended. "Do you . . . do you have a name in mind?"

Charlotte sighed, as she reached out to hold her husband's hand. "We had always agreed if we were blessed with a daughter, she'd be named after James's mother," she replied, sweetly.

Slowly, James nodded. "We had indeed." He was clearly plastering on a brave face, though the façade was already crumbling, his smile faltering.

There came another knock at the door, which sent Georgiana bustling to check. "This could be your parents, Lottie," she muttered as she left.

Charlotte laughed, a twinkling sound that sent Sidney's head spinning; too many memories, fond and painful, were associated with that heavenly sound. "I do hope the boys don't get jealous of all the visitors little one here is receiving."

Sidney cast James a look. Was Charlotte oblivious to her plight, that people were all coming to say goodbye to her, or was she merely trying to stay positive, keep up the optimism she had always been known for.

A few seconds passed by in utter silence, as Charlotte's eyes began to flutter shut. Both Sidney and James surged forward, their hearts lurching, to rouse her. Her big doe eyes opened not long later, and all seemed to be alright, when she began to speak.

"Mr Parker, I'd like to apologise again for yesterday," she suddenly said, completely out of the blue.

Sidney's brow furrowed. "Yesterday?"

"For my hasty judgement at the ball," she continued. "I hadn't sought out to offend you or your brothers, indeed I must express my gratitude to Tom for so kindly allowing me to live with them here."

"Offend me? How . . . how so?" Sidney was well and truly befuddled now, and starting to panic. Where did she think she was? _When_ did she think she was?

"I formed too sharp an opinion too hastily. You were right to scold me, and point out my lack of experience, though I would like to remind you that I am only twenty years of age, and coming from a run-down farm in the middle of nowhere you _must_ give me some leeway."

Sidney could have been sick again. She was referring to that very first night at the ball, when he had been less than forgiving of her. _That was eight years ago._ What was going on inside her head?

James leaned forward, resting the back of his hand on Charlotte's forehead. "Lottie, are you feeling alright? You're speaking rather odd."

Charlotte regarded her husband with confusion at first, then broke out into a bursting grin. "Don't you like Mr Stringer's designs, Mr Parker? His father says he'd wasted three candles, but I think that those candles were sacrificed for the greater good! They're rather spectacular."

The door opened again, and in walked Georgiana accompanied by an unknown man. "The doctor has returned, James. How is she faring?"

James shook his head, his face contorted with anguish. "She's . . . she's . . . " he couldn't finish his sentence, tears bubbling in his eyes.

"She's muddled," Sidney finished, appearing a lot calmer than he felt' his inner turmoil was causing his ever nerve-ending to fizz and boil. "Talking about things that happened a long time ago as though they were recent."

The doctor nodded, gravely. "This is most troubling," he sighed, setting his medical bag down. Either Sidney was imagining it, but it seemed to be much larger and brimming with more treatments than any other doctor's bag. Was that a good or bad sign, he wondered. "Mrs Molyneux, would you please remove the child from the room? I don't want to alarm Mrs Stringer or agitate her any more than she already is."

Georgiana obeyed as she scooped up the child, the sight of a newborn baby pulling Charlotte back to present day. Her daughter being removed from the room began to distress her, to which Georgiana attempted to soothe her friend. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Georgiana passed the baby over to Sidney without hesitation, so that she could be by Charlotte's side. This left Sidney in a compromising situation, holding the little girl whilst Charlotte called out to her, struggling to comprehend what was going on.

Sidney left the room hastily, the door closing behind him.

He found himself back amongst the others, all who looked up at him with the baby in his arms. He must have looked shell-shocked, as Mary stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps step outside for a few minutes, dear," she suggested. In her eyes he could see that she had already resigned herself to the inevitable. "And take this lovely little thing with you."

He nodded, slowly, his legs carrying him outside before he could really think through what was happening.

Sidney stood in the little garden, clutching the newborn amidst her swaddle of blankets, gazing out at the breath-taking view of the ocean. Before he knew it, he was sobbing.


	4. the good before the bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidney says his last goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whilst many of you have guessed what is going to happen, i implore those of you only wanting a sidlotte hea to read at least this chapter. afterwards i won't be offended if you don't continue!
> 
> let me know what you think so far!

It was not lost on Sidney that the predicament he had found himself in, holding Charlotte's newborn daughter, stood amongst the loveliest of flowers in the garden of her quaint little cottage, with the most spectacular of views of the ocean, was reminiscent of a life he could have had with her.

The life he gave up in pursuit of wealth.

His tears were hot and heavy, and wholly unwelcome. He hated to cry, hated any evidence of what he perceived as weakness. He couldn't even wipe them away, too afraid to move his hands from where they were placed around the baby he'd been left with.

Glancing down at her, he was struck by how perfect she truly was. Soft features that begged to be stroked, she looked the way all babies looked when they were born, and yet so remarkably delicate and angelic at the same time that he immediately placed her in higher esteem. He thought about the tribe of boys inside, the two twins and their elder brother, and how charming they already were. Their parents were, admittedly a handsome couple, and thus would inevitably birth equally handsome children.

As Sidney looked down at the baby girl, wondering just what of her features she would inherit from her jewel of a mother, when her eyes flickered open. He was stunned to be staring into Charlotte's eyes, the gloriously inquisitive and heart-meltingly captivating hickory brown eyes that had always held such a power over him that he could not explain.

He could have collapsed out of sheer heartache had he not snapped himself out of it.

This little girl, barely aware of her surroundings, not yet a fully-formed human with missing nails, no hair or teeth, was going to grow up motherless. Not just without any sort of mother, but perhaps one of the best mothers anybody could have hoped for.

Sidney was struck with a pang of guilt, as he realised how selfish he had been to think he had the monopoly on losing Charlotte.

"I wish I had the power to fix everything," he muttered, half to himself and half to the baby. "I'd give my own life up to save your mother in an instant." And he truly meant that. If there was some being up there he wholeheartedly believed in that could grant him one desire, it would be to keep Charlotte alive, even if that resulted in his sacrifice.

The baby couldn't comprehend what he was saying, he'd be a fool to think she did, but somehow she wriggled her tiny little fist free, and began to wave it in his direction. Carefully, he leaned down and allowed the little girl to brush her fingertips, the size of almonds, across his face. A gargling sound came out of her mouth, incomprehensible nonsense naturally, but altogether Sidney was swarmed with the idea she was reaching out to him, emotionally not just physically. He couldn't say what that meant, but couldn't deny the unbreakable connection he felt for the little girl, a desire to care and protect for her in the absence of her beloved mother.

The spring air was fresh, though the pleasant breeze promised of a warmer tomorrow. He didn't want to keep the baby out too long, and decided to head back inside.

There were considerably more tears when he entered back in, though everyone was doing their best to hide it from the children. Alicia and Jenny, and perhaps to an extent Henry, could gauge what was happening, or at least had a sense for what was happening, however the younger boys were in ignorant bliss, still playing with the train set. Jacob was still in Lady Susan's lap, fiddling with the glittering necklace around her neck.

"Here, Mary," Sidney muttered, as he offered her the newborn. She jumped at the chance to cuddle with a baby, which made Sidney smile despite himself.

Sidney found the last spare seat, and perched himself down. His legs were seizing up after the bumpy ride there and all the tension he'd been storing - achy joints was also an unrequited perk of turning thirty-six.

"It's been a while since we last saw you here, my good man," Babington finally said. He was amicable, but the lack of effort on Sidney's part to keep the friendship thriving over the last few years had meant that the pair weren't as close as they had been. "How's the family?"

Sidney sighed. He felt awful admitting it, but he hadn't paid them a moment's thought since he'd left them that morning. "The boys are doing well, both walking and talking, meddling and making all sorts of mayhem."

"Meddling, that's your wife's middle name, isn't it?" Esther couldn't resist.

You could have heard a pin drop, with everybody falling silent at Esther's snide remark. The complete lack of admonishment only proved what Sidney had known all along, that nobody truly liked his wife, not the way they had all rushed to Charlotte's aid.

Maybe it was the emotional exhaustion of the morning, or indeed the last eight years, but Sidney found himself laughing. "Very witty, Mrs Babington, very witty indeed. And rather true."

"Did Eliza not wish to join you?" Tom asked, quite awkwardly. He never knew quite were he stood with Eliza, as over the years it had been pointed out to Tom that his brother's unhappy marriage was partially, if not entirely, at his feet. "Nor the boys?"

Sidney shrugged. He had neither the patience or the desire to make excuses for his wife any longer. "I can't say I asked," he replied, dismissively. "However, I can safely say that my wife would have felt . . . out of sorts amongst Charlotte's loved ones. Eliza has her _many_ qualities, but empathy is not one she is quite capable of."

There were many blank faces at his comment, clearly at a cross-hairs of what to say, whilst both Esther and Lady Susan couldn't help but allow a little smirk to creep across their features.

Georgiana came in again, somewhat out of breath. People got to their feet, hearts in their mouths. "Charlotte would like to speak with you, Sidney."

They all took a collective sigh of relief. Sidney remained standing for a little while longer, before mustering the courage to follow Georgiana back into Charlotte's bedroom. He found James outside, struggling to keep himself together. Sidney looked at the architect properly, the first real time he had ever looked at him, and felt all the envy, all the spite and animosity he had ever harboured towards who he viewed as his competition dissipate away. Here was a man who was losing his wife, a woman he had loved with all his heart, a woman he had built a life together with. They had children to raise, had a town to improve upon. They were supposed to grow old together, but instead he had to watch as she slowly died before his very eyes. Sidney could not hate him for loving Charlotte, not any more.

He wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Not when he was saving his strength to see Charlotte for the last time.

Georgiana pushed the door open to allow him to step inside, then closed it behind him, leaving the pair alone together. To be alone with Charlotte in her bedroom had once been an all-consuming fantasy that now came back to mock and haunt him.

"Mr Parker, I've had the most intriguing of ideas," she suddenly said, in a voice so hoarse Sidney didn't think it healthy for her to speak.

He took the seat beside her - the one her husband had previously occupied - and tried his best to keep his sorrow at bay. "Enlighten me," he replied. What state was she to be in now?

"A regatta!" Sidney's heart sunk. She thought it to be eight years prior again. "I don't know much, admittedly, about fashionable society, but surely an exciting event such as a regatta would surely draw crowds? And once people are here, they'd be fools to not fall in love with the place, just as I have."

Sidney gave her a soft smile. "That's brilliant, Miss Heywood."

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do. You've always been rather ingenious. It's something I've always admired about you, Charlotte."

The use of her first name must have clicked something in her brain, as her eagerness and enthusiasm suddenly dropped, replaced with a sudden sobriety and seriousness. She reached out for his hand, a gesture that took him by surprise.

" _Sidney,_ " she spoke, the sound of his name, his proper name, on her lips was like honey. "I'm not going to live, am I?" He felt a few tears slip down his face, which he furiously wiped away. He couldn't answer, refused to answer. His distress gave him away however, as Charlotte held onto him tighter. "You must know I've always loved you, Sidney."

His heart shattered. He had presumed, suspected, but never knew for certain. The words had never been uttered, never exchanged. Eight years later, hearing her tell him that she loved him, was too much for him to bear. He broke down, only anchored down by Charlotte's grasp.

"I was completely enamoured by you from the moment we met, even you were a complete pompous arse," she continued, making him laugh through his sobs. The Charlotte he had met wouldn't have dared say something so brash, wouldn't have dreamed of cursing - this Charlotte was older, wiser, more experienced. She had always called things as she saw them, but now there was no doubt as to how correct she was. "You were like something from a novel I'd idolised, a dark, brooding stranger with a mysterious past. The more I got to know you, the more you infuriated me, enraged me."

Sidney looked up at her, his tears slowly ceasing. "Tell me again why you fell in love with me," he joked, though truly pleading with her to say those blessed words again.

She saw through his ruse immediately, and smirked. "I fell in love with you, Sidney Parker, because you filled me with a passion I had never felt before. You made me _feel_ things I had only read about."

"Oh God, have I wanted to hear that for so long," he couldn't help but say, moving forward in his seat. "Charlotte, I am so desperately in love with you. I think I always have been. Seeing you on that hilltop that very first time, you intrigued me so much, made my heart race. I was rude because . . . because I was afraid of how some unknown pretty young thing made me feel. Then when I discovered you were smart too, and witty, and kind, I was irrevocably lost. My love for you terrified me, it still does."

Charlotte rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes, and for the briefest of moments, Sidney felt more at peace then he had in years.

"I want you to be my daughter's godfather," she whispered.

The request was completely out-of-the-blue, completely unexpected, and yet the most Charlotte-like thing she had ever done. He had been nothing but cruel to her for years and years, the horrible things he had said and done outweighing the very few good things, and yet here she was entrusting him with the well-being of her only daughter. She saw something in him that he couldn't see in himself.

"Are you sure you want me?"

"I've always wanted you," she sighed, sadly. She pulled away from him, and Sidney was reminded of just how much pain she was in. He rushed to adjust her pillows, pulling her sheets up so she wouldn't be too cold. "Promise me Sidney you'll be there for her? For all of my family, really."

"I promise, Charlotte, with my whole heart," he vowed. "Your family will never want for anything, never be without friends."

She smiled, resting her head on the wooden backboard. "That's good to hear."

She looked ready for sleep, so Sidney seized his chance to say the one thing he had planned to; "Charlotte, from the bottom of my heart I am so sorry for how I've treated you. Forgive me, I beg of you. You didn't deserve a single nasty thing I did to you. When I think back on it I feel wretched for - "

"Sidney, I don't accept your apology," she told him, with a smile. "There is nothing to forgive."

He stared at her in awe. "How did I get so lucky to earn the love of a wonder like you?"

She laughed, which turned into a hasty cough. "You're easier to love than you think."

Sidney wanted to ask more about what Charlotte demanded from him as her baby's godfather, when he spotted a pool of crimson beginning to grow on the sheets. In the few seconds he watched, it grew from the size of a speck to an apple. Panicking, he called out for the doctor, for James, for Georgiana. The door swung open immediately, begging the question had her husband been able to hear everything through the thin elm?

They saw the blood too, and the doctor rushed into action, rolling up his sleeves. Sidney was instructed to leave the room, something he wasn't prepared to do. He didn't want to say goodbye just yet. He kept ahold of Charlotte's hand up until the moment Georgiana had to hoist him out of the room, apologising profusely. He couldn't take his eyes off of Charlotte, even as she began to writhe in pain, the blood flowing at a horrifying speed.

"I . . . I promise!" he called out to her, as the door was shut in his face, the slam! of the door simultaneous with the shattering of his heart.


End file.
